Sweet Surrender
by Aevium
Summary: Alphonse needed to be cleansed of the lying feeling that he was alone, when the truth was, he was never alone. Just because Ed slept during the night, didn’t mean he wasn’t there. [Oneshot, brotherly fluff!]


**Author's Note: **Just a quick little oneshot I wrote while I was bored. I was in a depressed mood, I suppose. I was listening to _Sweet Surrender_ by Sarah Mclachlan too, hence the title. Anyway, just a little brotherly fluff for you to enjoy! It's mostly at the end though. It's mostly Al thinking during the night. Very angsty for the both of them, mostly for Al though. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** Hiromu Arakawa owns _Fullmetal Alchemist, _not me. She's _way_ more brilliant than me.

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_**Sweet Surrender**_

**_By: Aevium_**

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No matter how many people told him, assured him that he was indeed human, Alphonse Elric knew they were just being sympathetic. It was kind of them to try and give him comfort—he never thought otherwise—but Alphonse wasn't stupid. Physically, he was no human being. He knew that, and every time the moon showed its gloomy self, he was reminded of it constantly.

When the sun was risen, and everyone was up and about, Al didn't ponder much about his inhuman traits. He traveled around with his brother, Edward, seeking a certain crimson stone that gave them hope. But being with his brother alone was what made him happy. He knew that he would be gone—dead—if Edward hadn't transmuted his soul into the hulking suit of armor that was now himself.

And he was grateful that Edward had given up his _right arm_ just to continue his own existence. He felt somewhat guilty too; after all, that arm had to be replaced with automail, atop Edward's missing left leg as well. It was quite a painful ordeal, Al knew—he could still remember hearing grown men screaming from the surgery when he was younger.

Edward never screamed. He was _eleven years old_ at the time and the only proof that his automail surgery was in the least bit agonistic was his clenched teeth and grunting, obviously trying desperately to contain his cries.

Alphonse felt pride in having such a strong older brother. A brother who took care of him and always put himself over Al. And the younger brother never thought he deserved it. He _didn't._

After all, he was nearly invulnerable with the body he was trapped in now. If anything, _Edward_ was the one who needed to be taken care of. Who needed _protection._

But Edward refused. He always refused to give Alphonse his responsibility.

"_It's my burden, Al. You have no place in carrying it as well,"_ he would always say. Alphonse would have snorted if he could, remembering those words, which were said too many times. Of course he had to help carry the burden, because it was_ his_ burden as well!

At the moment, the armor was settled on the wooden floor of their dorm room. His legs were crossed and his cold, metal arms resting between them. The moon—his dreaded enemy—was shining its usual white light into the lonely room.

When he was younger—not the giant heap of metal that he was now—he remembered admiring the moon every night. He loved how it lighted the darkness up when it was completely unconcealed, illuminating Resembool's magnificent fields and meadows with a healthy angelic splendor.

He even used to sneak out of their home with Ed, sitting on tall hilltops, buried beneath the tall grass and watching the fireflies skitter across their faces. He remembered it all too clearly.

Yes, he used to love the moon. He used to love nighttime, when he could drift off and sleep peacefully, forgetting anything and everything that tormented his mind relentlessly, like his mother's death, back then.

But now, _now_, he despised the thing. For welcoming everyone into their slumbers—slumbers that he could not enjoy anymore. Even his own brother, who was breathing slowly in the ever-so comfortable looking bed at that moment.

And every night, Alphonse Elric was left alone while the entire world was sleeping.

It was what he hated the most about his punishment. The fact that he was left to endure endless nights with only his mind to keep him company. He always felt so lonely.

So afraid …

All he could do was watch over Ed while he dreamed.

Al was guilty of many things. His selfishness, for one. Although he would never admit it to Edward, Al was jealous of Ed. How he longed to be able to close his eyes and let the cruel world slip away, and be able to wake up the next morning ready for a new day. He didn't want to be envious—not against his own brother, especially. It made him wonder, _Why was it me whose body was taken as Equivalent Exchange? Why me? Is it because I was considered weaker than Brother?_

But he knew, in his nonexistent heart, that he was glad he was the one who was condemned to this fate. For his brother to have been in his place, he would have surely hated it more. He was glad that Edward didn't have to suffer the pain of losing all feeling, all humanly traits that he held so dear …

But he didn't deny that Edward suffered greatly as well. Losing two of his limbs must have been unbearable, and especially soon after, in the process of his automail. And Alphonse knew his older brother was feeling horribly guilty about their human transmutation, and furthermore on attaching Al's soul to a lifeless suit of armor.

Al was guilty too. _He_ had the feeling that what they were doing was wrong, _he_ should have acted on it. But, alas, he didn't, and look what had happened? If he had just convinced Edward to stop, then maybe they could be happy, living peacefully in Resembool with Winry and Aunt Pinako, regular bodies and all.

In the midst of the silent room, Al tried his best to lift his arm without being noisy. When night enveloped day, and everything was silent, Al found his armor to be the loudest, most obnoxious thing of all. He lifted his arm from the ground—without waking Edward, luckily—and stared at it in an almost disgusting way. This was him now—that arm, along with the rest of his metal body. How he hated it.

But as long as he was with his brother, he was content. It was better than him being dead, after all.

Still, every night was unbearably long. His incapability to sleep was why he wanted his body back the most. He didn't like being lonely, and lonely was what he was each and every time the moon conquered the sun.

Sighing softly, he stood up slowing, trying his best not to be a ruckus. He would have winced at the seemingly loud metallic sounds he created, and he glanced to Edward to assure himself that he had not disturbed the blonde. He sighed in relief—the elder brother hadn't even moved. That boy could sleep through an earthquake, Alphonse was sure.

He slowly made his way to the side of Edward's bed, and just stared down at him. The peacefulness that the blonde showed was enough to make Al's soul smile. It was a rare sight, to see Edward in such tranquility. He could even see his brother smiling slightly beneath the messy tousle of golden blonde hair concealing his soft face. He was having a good dream—another rare sight.

Unable to control himself, Alphonse reached out and carefully pulled the golden strands out of his brother's content face. The older boy mumbled something incoherently in his deep slumber, but did nothing more.

Alphonse stood there for about a half an hour, before turning to move by the window. He placed his hand on the sill, and took note of the location of the moon. It was just a little past the centre of the dark, twilit sky, a little to the west. He didn't even have to check for the time. Its position told him that it was about 2:30. After spending so many nights awake, he could tell time by the position of the moon easily.

He watched silently as a misty dark cloud traveled across the heavenly orb that was the moon, contrasting with it greatly. It was dark and light overlapping each other, just like himself. A tall, sinister appearing suit of armor containing the innocent soul of a little boy.

Oh, the irony of it all …

The shuffling sound of sheets and the screeching noise of springs from the mattress brought Al's attention to that of his older brother. His right hand still resting on the window sill, he turned his body in the direction of the bed, and unexpectedly met with a very much awake Edward Elric, who was sitting upwardly, rubbing the tiredness out of his eyes.

Alphonse sighed sadly. He hoped he hadn't been the reason of his brother's sudden awareness. Thinking that Ed would fall back asleep, or maybe just needed to use the washroom, Al turned back to the window, not wanting to start a conversation and wake him up further. Ed needed his sleep, after all—he never got a lot of it—and Al would not selfishly use a tired Ed to satisfy his loneliness.

"Al?" Edward's tired and scratchy voice sounded in the all too silent room.

"I'm sorry Brother, I didn't mean to wake you. Go back to sleep," Alphonse said, still staring out the window.

"You didn't wake me," Edward assured, still rubbing his eyes and squinting soon after. "Al, is there something wrong?"

"No, Brother. Why would you say that?" Al asked calmly. Stupid, stupid Ed. He needed to sleep. He didn't have to do this. He didn't have to waste his time asking what was wrong with him.

"You just seemed … distant, is all. You have a way of showing emotions through your armor, you know," Edward mumbled out. His voice was understandably still evident of tiredness.

"Well, everything's alright. Just go back to sleep, Brother, you need it," Alphonse persuaded. Much to his dismay, the elder brother started to stand, wobbly making his way over to his younger, taller brother.

Edward shook his head. "You think too little of me, Al. I know something is bothering you," he stated defiantly.

Alphonse sighed, "Please, just go back to bed. You don't need to worry."

Edward was silent at this. He would have argued about that, but at the moment he was too tired. And he already knew what was bothering Al. The same thing that did every night—loneliness.

Ed's worried expression explained his next mutter of what could questionably be called words. "Oh, Al …" And they got the message out.

Al hung his head. "I'm sorry Brother. It's just … every night is so long. And lonely. And scary …" he admitted. He knew he shouldn't have. He was being selfish, keeping Ed awake like this to listen to his pointless rambles. He would have to get Edward to bed soon, even if he had to carry the blonde over himself.

"You have no right to be sorry. I put you in there, condemned you to that fate. I'm …" he drifted off, as if afraid to say his next words. Alphonse was about to cut in when he decided to finish, "I'm a horrible brother. I'm sorry, Al. I'm so sorry."

Al was speechless. How could he say that? He was a horrible brother? If the definition of a horrible brother was one who gave up his own arm to save the other's life, then there was no sanity in the world. Edward was willing—and still was—to give up anything for his own brother. That in itself was beyond the definition of a caring, reputable, and overall _honorable_ brother.

"No, don't even say that Ed. Please, you've done more for me than I can ever repay you for. I can't even show my gratitude," Alphonse assured Edward, as the blonde's face was visibly downcast.

Alphonse watched as his brother shook his head, and then looked up at Al. "I'm sorry you have to be lonely like this at night, Al. I can't even imagine what it would be like," Edward told truthfully. He really could not fathom how horribly lonesome the younger Elric must have felt every night.

"It's alright Brother. I'm used to it. Now go back to bed—"

"Bend down Al," Edward instructed, his left hand pointed to the ground. Alphonse appeared reluctant, but did as he was told. He moved to his knees on the wooden floor, almost meeting his brother eye to eye. He was actually a little lower than Edward at the moment.

Edward's honey eyes softened and he leaned into the cool metal, hugging Alphonse around the neck. Alphonse didn't show any signs of responding at first, but he eventually leaned in slightly, his soul crying. The armor shook a little, making it seem like he was trembling. He couldn't physically feel this, but he could understand it. Edward was showing his love for his brother.

Edward's eyebrows creased, determinedness shown on his face. A single tear rolled down his cheek, but he didn't bother wipe it away. His younger brother needed this—so did he. But Alphonse needed to be cleansed of the lying feeling that he was alone, when the truth was, he was never alone. Just because Ed slept during the night, didn't mean he wasn't there.

Edward pulled away, looking down at his brother's soul-filled eyes. "You're not alone, Al," he comforted. "Never." He bent down to his knees, placed both his hands on the sides of Al's helmet, and leaned in to place a soft kiss on the side of his forehead. The metal was cold, but he didn't care. This was his brother, and no matter what, he would care for him, putting his needs and wants aside and focusing only on Alphonse's.

And, that memorable night, the two brothers had finally given in. Alphonse didn't feel all that alone, with his brother there, comforting him. And Edward had allowed himself to cry, even if it was merely a single tear rolling down his cheek.

They had simply collapsed—a sweet surrender.

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**A/N:** Meh, not too happy with this, but it's all in good fun, right? I did try to focus on Alphonse, because, really, spending _each and every night _alone like that? It's unbearable! I felt bad for him, especially when (ahem, small spoiler here for manga, for those who care. Skip over it if you do) he was talking to Ed about how he hated being alone at night, an even went to the extent of yelling: "I don't want anymore nights alone!" Awww, poor Al.

Review if you please, it would make my day!

--Aevium


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